


Pajama Party

by stateofintegrity



Category: Rush (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 18:14:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6764680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stateofintegrity/pseuds/stateofintegrity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex uses a silly tradition to convince Geddy that they would make a great couple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He crosses the threshold like some sun-dazzled thing, hair turned deep gold by summer days spent playing golf and volleyball. I chuckle at the sight of him, imagining that as he walked here the fireflies winked out one by one, rather than offer him any competition.  “Pajama party!” he declares, displaying an overnight bag and looking every bit the overgrown boy that he is.

          I roll my eyes and cover my face with my hands. “Lerxst!”

          He waggles his blond eyebrows. “What? You had other plans for this beautiful evening?”

          “No,” I correct, watching his settle on my couch and knowing I’ve got him for the night now. “But, Lerxst, if you stay, you know how it’ll be.” I blush even as I say it. I’ve known for a long time that my dearest friend would like to be more than friends, and when we’re alone together he’s not shy about expressing his feelings. (Or about offering suggestions about how we might better spend our time!)

          “You could just give in,” he offers, flirting.

          I feel my face get hot. “ _Lerxst…!”_ I whine, in spite of myself.

“It’s your own fault,” he tells me, coming closer to throw an arm around my shoulders. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to open the door to vampires?”

          I crack up; he’s so silly! “Vampires would be less persuasive,” I shoot back. “Less fun.” _Less handsome, too,_ I silently add.

          He grows suddenly serious. “Well, Dirk, then you’re lucky I’m here. _I’ll_  keep an eye on the windows. No vampires will get past me!”

          “Oh good,” I say, defeated by his nearness and his eternal good humor.

          Feeling me give in, he begins to talk me into another night of Lerxstian entertainments.

 

            Of course, said entertainments have Lerxst Rules™ - which I’m somehow obliged to follow, even though it’s _my_ house _and_ he’s the resident uninvited pest! So, since a Pajama Party was declared (which is how he says it, “declared,” like it’s a battle) nothing else will do but that we should put on our pjs. I feel like I’m trapped in that children’s book, _If You Give a Mouse a Cookie._ Except, this is more _If You Give a Lerxst an Inch_! I relate the thought to him and he cheekily replies that he’d happily take six inches in place of a mile any day – provided they were the _right_ six inches! We’re changing as he says it and he sees me blush to my toes. I don’t know if it torments him or encourages him that I don’t mind undressing in front of him. Maybe it’s my own silly version of payback – Tantalus style. Besides, whether I undress in here or locked safely in the bathroom, he’s still going to try to dictate what I change into. He has an incredible memory when it comes to my clothes – which would be flattering if I could ever think of being in a relationship with another man. As it is, I’m left rolling my eyes as he ransacks my drawers for appropriate pajama party attire.

          I know what he’s looking for. He likes me in green, and, if my last few “gag” (or not?) Christmas-Chanukah gifts are any indication, in silk. Finally, he levels me with a Lerxstian approximation of a stern look. “You know, this is a lot less fun when you _take out_ all the good stuff!”

          “I prefer to think of it as self-protection against indecent exposure,” I quip back, proud of myself for finally having learned to anticipate him.

          “Maybe it’s self-protection against _self incrimination_ ,” he shoots back, dropping his eyes below my waistband. I’m still stammering, trying to protest, when he opens another drawer. This one’s his – filled with the clothing he leaves on the bus, or stuff he leaves here. That the drawer has such a wide selection of boxers and underwear (and one sparkly thong that he pinned to my office pegboard once) is a tribute to his perseverance – or his perverseness! I chuckle to think of how many times he must have gone commando in order to let me know he was thinking of me. Rooting through piles of laundry, he finally finds one of his old t-shirts and tosses it at me. I catch it before it quite smacks me in the face and stare at him. He can’t be serious.

          “That’s cruel, Lerxst.” For one thing, it’s a Rush t-shirt! For another, he’s neglected to provide me with pants!

          “Conform to the rules of the pajama party,” he intones, “or be cast out!”

          “It’s my house!”

          “And I have unfulfilled fantasies of you wearing my t-shirt after an amorous night. Whose fault is that?”

          Sometimes I’m surprised he doesn’t have a permanent concussion – I certainly hit him upside the head often enough. “I can’t help the nonsense you dream up, Alex. And isn’t the whole wearing-your-shirt a chick thing?”

          He shrugs, but then grows serious. “I dunno. Is that what you’re afraid of? That I’ll treat you like a girl?” He sounds genuinely troubled by the idea, troubled that I could think so little of him.

          “I’m not afraid of anything, Lerxst. And I’m adding pants to this outfit of yours.”

          The humor shakes him, though he still looks concerned. “I’ll meet you at boxers.” Clowning, he pretends to be struck by a novel idea and offers, “Hey, if it’ll make you feel any better, _I_ can go without pants, too!”

          Sighing, I pull the shirt over my head and reflect that some days even your lucky baseball boxers don’t help!


	2. Chapter 2

When I find myself following _him_ to the kitchen, I roll my eyes at myself. I’ve got to stop giving him the lead in _everything_ – especially crazy nonsense like a grown-up slumber party! But then I stop, feeling my expression change on my face. Hell, where would I be without Lerxst? _Who_ would I be? Certainly not living my dream life at twenty-five as a singer in a rock and roll band. A lump rises in my throat, absurdly, when I’m forced to admit to myself that without him I wouldn’t be, well… anything. Watching him rummaging around in my cupboards for snacks, I’m struck by how beautiful he is, and how oblivious to it. I wish I could be what he wants me to be, wish I could guide myself past the barrier-reef running bright and sharp around my heart. He deserves everything I could give him. And if only that giving wouldn’t make me that one thing I swore I’d never be… No, I can’t prove them right about that, not even for him. Not even for myself.

          He’s uncannily perceptive when it comes to me (and incredibly protective) so when he notices my silence, he catches my eyes, silently asking if I’m okay. I give him a quick, grateful smile in answer, my way of saying it’s nothing serious. It’s a look he remembers from the years after my father passed away. I was often struck by fierce, momentary grief and just needed to ride it out. He allowed that much, but always insisted I come to him with all my lasting hurts. With his eyes meeting mine, I’m struck by the gilt lines summering under the coastal blue. I’ve always thought of him as golden. The word encompasses so much: his coloring, his many blessings, his princely bearing, the warmth of his smile. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to find treasure submerged beneath the waters of his eyes!

          That brief glimpse of gold must have held me hypnotized, because I don’t remember him swirling his finger through a bowl of newly-made icing. He extends that finger to me, offering. I narrow my eyes at him – a clear warning – but his cherubim-grin is unrepentant. I stay away from all milk-based foods when we’re on the road, so this is an especially effective tease. “C’mon,” he says in a soft, husky voice that sends shivers spiraling up my spine. “What’ll it hurt?”

          Usually, I’d be quick-witted enough to retort that it isn’t my job to supply his masturbatory fantasies. But then I lean forward.

          My mouth covers his finger past the knuckle, the warm ring of my lips enclosing him. My tongue circles that slender digit, and I clean it with a few rough, damp licks. Then I draw back, swallowing down sweetness and wondering if I’m punishing him or encouraging him. Someplace dim-lit and deep inside I also wonder how much of the sweetness I’m tasting is the sugar, and how much is him.

          He looks at me dumbfounded with fast-darkening eyes. “Thanks,” he murmurs weakly.

          Feeling triumphant and guilty at once, I help him gather our snacks and proceed to our next sleepover activity.   


	3. Chapter 3

Coordinator in residence, Lerxst establishes us in what I think of as “the garden spot,” a raised platform of cool tile surrounded by a shade garden and a small moon-circle of a pond. An outdoor fireplace sits in the center, and he works at building a modest blaze inside of it while the fireflies flash behind his broad shoulders. I’m still a little shocked at what I’ve done. The way his fingers shake as he lights each match and his uncharacteristic silence say that he might not be over it either. I hope he doesn’t think more than I meant. I don’t mean to lead him on, after all. I mean, I’ve told him “no,” firmly and politely and insistently for years. So why does my body keep doing things that seem to point toward “yes?”

          I shiver a little in the summer air, chilled without my pajama pants. I look over at Lerxst to see if he’s similarly affected and notice that the button on his boxers is open, firelight glinting on the golden strands peaking out. I almost roll my eyes again. I know it’s on purpose. Of course, that my eyes have veered to his crotch, that I’ve fallen into the trap, probably redeems him a little for setting it! Oh, Alex… what am I going to do with you?

          “Earlier you looked sad,” he says from across the fire, threading a stick with marshmallow immolations. “Now you’re blushing over nothing. What’s going on in that head of yours, Dirk?”

          I don’t answer right away, shaking my head. “Y’know, sometimes I hate it that you can catch me that easily.”

          “It’s not easy,” he corrects, turning the poor marshmallows so that they’re completely aflame. Then he winks. “And just for the record, if I ever do catch you, you’ll know it.”

          The man’s a genius at sexual spin. I’ve given up looking for safe phrases. No matter what I say, he’s verbally acrobatic enough to twist it. I decide to give him a little bit of a twist myself. “Oh? Didn’t think bondage was your style, Ali.” I don’t know why his gentler nickname comes to my lips, but I forget all about it when he bats his eyelashes, as golden in the firelight as if they were dusted with dandelion pollen.

          “It’s not, usually,” he says, looking every inch a flirt (even, I suspect, the unseen inches), “But I think it’d be good for _you_.”

          I raise one eyebrow, not trusting myself to ask.

          “You heard me,” he says. “You try so hard to be in control all the time. Letting go with someone who would do everything he could to see to your pleasure – I think you’d enjoy that.” Seeing my skin begin to burn, he changes tacks. “You still haven’t told me what’s bothering you.”

          I can’t tell him that what’s bothering me is my inability to let _him_ be the one to see to my pleasure. I decide to tell as much of the truth as I can. “It’s just me. I’m enough to drive myself crazy most of the time.”

          “Well, then it’s a good think you have me to help you unwind!”

          So we spend the rest of our campfire adventure eating cookies (made by Chef Lerxst earlier today ) slathered in icing, drinking wine, and sharing a joint. And I try to keep my eyes in reasonable places!

 

 

          When our little fire has burned down to a few orange logs cased in white ash, he looks up at the cotton-blown moon and whistles sweetly at its beauty. Then he beams at me across the flames. “Go swimming with me?”

          With the smoke in my hair and my clothes sweat-sticking to my skin from the summer heat, the cool blue depths of the pool sound like a dream. “Alright.”

          The pool is indoors, deep in the house. Above, the skylight is a sheet of crystal that shatters the moonlight and sends it darting down into the water like a flock of flying fish. The moonlight is intoxicating and I don’t bother flipping on the light.  Golden in the firelight, Lerxst looks just as lovely in shades of white and silver, his hair like wheat under a light frost. I feel something stirring deep inside me, a white gold flash through my groin, and brace myself against that old, familiar desire that I never allow myself to completely feel.  

          He stands with the window at his back, the light making a gloriole around his body. Though there’s so much else I can’t admit, even in the quiet of my own mind, I’ve never had trouble admitting he’s beautiful. As he lifts his shirt over his head, the muscles in his chest and shoulders ripple and dance. My eyes close, and my skin is so sensitive, so keyed up with all I’m hiding, that I actually feel the brush of my own lashes. I want to see water streaming over his body, I want… His boxers follow the shirt and he winks at me – one slow burning look – before splashing into the water.

          Earlier, I was determined to protect myself from looks like that, but I decide that two can play at this game. Stripping out of his t-shirt and my boxers both, I join him in the water. The blue-black currents welcome me like silk sheets, cool and luscious. And when I come up for air, the water on my lashes makes spangles of the moonlight. The pot has me aroused and the moon has me dizzy. If he kissed me now… Instead, he becomes his playful self again, splashing and roughhousing with me in the water. The surface of the water splinters in our play, but I think he’s hard beneath it. I know I am.

          He keeps me distracted with making a whirlpool. Strangely, this is the kind of task I love – sustained, single-minded, and rewarding. But by the time the current is finally strong enough to draw us along, I’m worn through and drift quietly along. The moon is tangled in the branches of the trees beside the house and it seems darker, later, than it is. That’s when he gives me a wild look, his eyes seeming more white than blue in the dark. “Dirk, it’s coming up on the witching hour, I think I should get you back inside. Vampires, y’know?”

          I flash him a smile and climb out of the pool, letting him take a nice long look. “Lerxst, the vampires just want to suck my _blood_.”

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Inside, Lerxst doesn’t seem to know what to do with his eyes. I let him look as I look for something to wear. This time, I go with pajama pants, but I still choose one of his shirts. He looks surprised at that, but then just smiles, accepts it, and gets dressed too. Happy to see him smiling, I tease him. “If your goal with this pajama party was to get me _out_ of my pajamas, you’re having a pretty successful night!”

          His expression is strangely soft, not Lerxstish at all. Curling a single lock of my dark, wet hair around a finger, he heads downstairs. Once there, he arranges more snacks for us, and we crash in the den, playing records. Lying on my back with my hair dripping down my neck, it hits me. I just went skinny dipping with my best friend. My best friend with a huge crush (among other things). And I can’t decide if I’m scandalized at my behavior or ashamed for teasing him so hard… or something else.

          This time, my silence galvanizes Lerxst into new flights of… Lerxstishness. Clunking the old office phone onto the floor, he flashes me a grin. “No pajama party is complete without prank calls.”

          I groan. “You mean _Pratt_ calls. He’s eventually going to kick your ass,” I warn as he starts to dial.

          “Nonsense,” he replies. “I’m adorable.”

          There’s no real arguing with that, so I sit back with a Coke and a handful of M&Ms, and hope my brainiac drummer isn’t sleeping.

          He must not be, because the phone only rings once before Lerxst launches into his schtick. The phone is on speaker, so I muffle my laughter with my hand as he leads Neil on through a labyrinth of words. The percussionist doesn’t even sound impatient. But then, the reprimand comes. And it’s not even aimed at Lerxst – it’s aimed at me!

          “Geddy Lee, honestly? You couldn’t find a better way to entertain him? You had to sick him on me? I can’t believe you can be that energetic on stage night after night and still fail to keep him amused.”

          I cover my blood-bright face with my hands. Pratt’s always believed – as in, since his audition – that Alex and I are together. Alex doesn’t help of course. Not only does he encourage Neil in his delusions (he can be downright lurid!), but then he turns around and points out that if someone as brilliant as The Professor thinks we look right together then it must mean something! For not the first time, I consider telling Pratt about the origin of his nickname – Alex’s contention that he routinely (and condescendingly) lectures us, prattling and prating on about stuff no one cares about.

          Defeated, I just sigh. “He knows all my tricks,” I say. Denial seems silly at this point – the skinny dipping, y’know?

          The faux-frustrated and much-picked on drummer retorts, “Your birthday’s coming up, isn’t it? Don’t be surprised to receive the _Kama Sutra_!” He slams down the receiver and Alex gives me a pleased and devious look, his eyes twinkling like moonstones, before falling back on his heels, laughing.

          “Well, I’ll be looking forward to your 24th now, Dirk,” he teases.          

          “Finally going to climb out of a cake for me?” I shoot back, then yawn.

          “You’re not getting tired on me, are you?” asks my pest. “You know if you fall asleep, that won’t be whipped cream on your face!”

          Groaning, I sit back up. I’m not at all a fan of coffee (an unfortunate thing in the life of a touring musician) but a glass of wine sounds promising. “Want to have a drink with me?”

          “I want to have a lot more than that,” he says, and I can’t tell how much is teasing and how much is a plea. “But a drink can’t be a bad place to start!”

         

 


	5. Chapter 5

At his insistence, we drink sitting on the two A.M. lawn. The grass is dew-cool on my feet and I almost think I could blame the fireflies for the strange thoughts that come flickering into my brain. I mean, it’s why they glow, isn’t it? For love? For lust? I feel the same kind of brightness quickening in me. I thought I extinguished these feelings long ago, but some ember of desire must have remained, and tonight I’ve been fighting the fire while feeding the flames. I don’t know how much longer I can fend off his brightness…

          So, when he draws my mouth to his and I feel myself burn and rise in response, I seek refuge in the oldest and most cowardly of defenses. “Don’t.” The single word comes harder and colder than I mean it, and I turn my head to keep from seeing him flinch. Getting to my feet, I stalk hurriedly away from him before whirling, asking, “Why do you have to do this every time? Why do you have to ruin it? I’ve told you ‘no,’ often enough – why do you push?”

          They aren’t fair questions from someone who’s spent the night encouraging him, flirting with him, and I feel like crying when he moves backward, further into the dark, retreating away from my anger. When he finally speaks, his voice is so small, so lost. “Dirk, is there something about me that won’t let you be with me?” He makes a small sound, like a sob. “I could give you up easier if I knew. I-I always thought that if I was patient enough and good enough, I had as much chance as anyone.”

          I hate to hurt him. I hate myself. “It’s nothing in you, Ali.” I mean to stop there, to apologize and ask him if we can just inside and go to bed and forget the whole thing. But something happens. Something… snaps.

          “Don’t you understand?” That harsh, desperate cry – it can’t be mine. But when I speak again, it’s there in the wind – the sound of my pain, and my love. “If I tell you that I want you – that I’ve always wanted you – for my lover, it makes it all true.” Tears roll down my face and I’m more ashamed than I’ve ever been.

          “Dirk? Ged, what do you mean? What are you talking about?” He sounds so intent, so hopeful.

           Sobs come hard, now, and I’m shaking with too much truth. “All… all those fucking critics… reviews… don’t…don’t want to be what they want to make me…” I think I’d slash my throat if it would make my voice _stop_. “…already not beautiful, I don’t want to be t-t-that…”

          He comes to stand before me, but doesn’t venture a touch. “Geddy?” he whispers. “Ged?”

          If I wasn’t so confused, I’d be exasperated at having to explain further. “You read the same ones!” I cry. “You know what everyone says about me! You know what being with you will make me!”

          We’ve changed positions so radically. He’s always been so boisterous, pressing his claim, urging me on to new adventures. In the face of my confession, he’s terribly, almost inhumanly, calm and I’m halfway to hysterical. “Geddy,” he asks, almost so softly that I can’t hear, “what will it make me?”

          His gentleness makes me want to lash out at him. How can he be so damn rational? “Nothing! You’re so fucking beautiful… perfect… you can have anyone you want!”

          He chuckles softly at me, making my eyes widen. “I wish you didn’t sound so angry about it. I’ve always wanted to be beautiful to you – for you, and I don’t believe for a minute that being with you changes anything about either of us.”

          I sniffle, unsure.

          “Look,” he reasons, “Have you ever wanted another man? I haven’t. Dirk, you’re the other half of my soul. I’m meant for you, so you must be meant for me, too. I don’t think anything else matters.” He studies my face, assuring himself that I’m listening. “And as for not being beautiful, hell…” He blows out an exasperated breath. “Geddy, do you have any idea how many paintings I’ve done of you? How many drawings? And that’s not even counting the photos I have. _I know your face._ ” He lifts my chin, holding my gaze in the dark. All the world seems to shrink. All I can feel is his touch. “Geddy, you’re beautiful in all ways – in your heart, in your soul, and on the outside too.” He smiles. “I would have thought you’d have seen that by now from my, uhm, reactions.”    

          “Now, tell me the truth. Are you in love with me? You know I’m in love with you, and you know I’ll do anything I can to make you happy.”

          After so much, what else can I say? “Yes.”


	6. Chapter 6

With everything out between us in the open, I no longer know how to act or what to do. Trembling, I look to him. I’ve always gone where he’s led me, and I’ve never wanted his leadership more. If he lifts his hand, beckons me closer, I’ll go to him, go to bed with him. To my surprise, he does nothing of the sort. Instead, he slips an arm around my shoulder and guides me quietly in out of the dark.

          Standing in my kitchen, with the lights so harsh after the glow of the moon, I blink and ask, “What now?”

          He smiles at me, a gentle, fond smile. “Now? Now, I’m going to take you upstairs and lay down with you. If you’ll let me, I’ll hold you and talk to you until I’ve convinced you of how beautiful you are. And then I’ll watch you sleep.”

          I’m dumbfounded. “You mean you don’t want to…?”

          He nuzzles my neck, laughing. “Dirk, let me tell you a secret. If I just wanted to go bed with you, I would have done it by now.”

          I whirl to face him, questions in my eyes.

          He laughs again, a low chuckle. “I saw that I got to you – not just tonight, but before.” He’s almost batting his lashes again when he says, “I told you that _all_ of your parts are beautiful.” He continues, “Maybe I’m dead wrong, but I think if I’d have pressed it – if I would have kissed you and kept kissing you, I could have gotten you out of your pants.”

          I burn; he’s so absolutely right.

          “You would have hated yourself, and probably me, the next day, so I never went that far,” he says as we enter my bedroom – a space made somehow different by what he knows about me. “Hell, why do you think we’ve had our own hotel room all this time?”

          I’m starting to wish I could disconnect whatever it is that makes a body flush. I’m becoming exhausted with all this coloring and cooling. “I thought that was because of Pratt – so he could get his writing done.”

          “Partly. But, it’s also because I asked him. He said yes because he knows how much I love you… and because I used to pay for that single room of his.”

          I want to laugh, because it’s so silly, so Lerxst, but my heart thrashes against my ribs because it also says so much about how long he’s cared for me. I tease, but my voice is thick. “Explains why he handles those phone calls of yours with such grace, anyway.”

          Chuckling, he pulls me into bed with him and draws my head down on his chest. I hear his heartbeat, steady and true – like him. “Now,” he says, “let me tell you all about the beautiful man I fell in love with.”


	7. Chapter 7

I wake up alone, and for a moment I think it was all a dream – his voice saying sweet things to me until I fell asleep in his arms. But his scent is there in the pillows when I burrow back into them, and I soon discover a handwritten note beside me. I hold it up to my eyes – half-blind without my glasses – and struggle to decipher his Lerxstishly loopy letters.

 

Dirk,

          Good morning, my love. I’m sorry I’m not there to spend it with you, but Ray called and wanted some papers taken care of at the T.O. office. I know last night took a lot out of you, so I let you sleep and drove downtown on my own. Come to my house tonight for another pajama party? Pajamas are optional.

I love you,

Alex

 

           I hold his words to my chest, wishing I could hold him as tight. He’s so sweet, to spare me work and downtown traffic alike and I promise to pay him back for this… and for all the rest! As I make my way through the house, I find he’s left reminders of himself. The glasses-wearing Rubber Geddy Ducky in the shower is especially funny, and I wonder how much nonsense he had in that duffel bag! I escort the ducky down from the shelf to the water pooling on the shower floor. Watching him rocking out in the spray, I reflect that he would have a much better time with a counterpart – a golden prankster duck with more whacky ideas than feathers! Downstairs, I find a breakfast of fruit-topped waffles already prepared and I wonder how early you can start a pajama party anyway.  

          To distract myself, I set out to answer his note with one of my own. Completed, it reads:

      Lerxst,

 

      I’m writing to you because I’m not sure I’ll be able to say all the words – and you deserve them.

      I want to apologize, first, for treating you so badly last night, and always, I guess. If I tell you it was hell to resist you, I hope you can forgive me a little.

      If you haven’t figured it out yet, I’ve been in love with you since we were teenagers. Back then, I thought you’d hate me for wanting you, or be disgusted, even though I’ve never wanted another man. You made it so easy for me to love you – you’ve always been everything I needed, everything I wanted. When you said you wanted me… it was after all of those damn reviews, after all those bullies and I was afraid that being with me would mess up your life. I didn’t want anyone to say those things about you, Ali.

      It’s embarrassing, but you should know this too. Alex, there hasn’t ever been anyone else. I was in love with you, so I couldn’t, and I never had that many offers. I hope you won’t be disappointed. You’ll have to teach me, I guess, but I won’t have any bad habits to unlearn!

      I guess the only way to end is to say that I’ve always loved you, my friend, and I always will.

      Yours, as long as you’ll have me,

            Geddy

 

Sealing the letter, I walk it the two blocks to his mailbox and slip it in inside. I spare a glance for my watch on the way home. Pajama party in T-minus eight hours and counting!

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

I spend the rest of the day trying (and failing) to distract myself from thoughts of him. I spend my energy on random projects, from chasing cobwebs out of ceiling corners to organizing my c.ds. Finally, I turn packing for tonight into an unnecessarily elaborate process. After all, what do you wear to go to bed with your best friend? With all that he’s done for me, I feel like I should dress to please him. Of course, knowing my darling Lerxst (I can’t believe I’m calling him that, even in my mind!) he’d be best pleased if I don’t dress at all! The words of his note return to me: pajamas optional!

          Well, I won’t go that far – I do have two blocks to walk, after all. Still, rummaging through my clothes to find clothes to entice a Lerxst is pretty fun, and soon my bed and my floor are both covered with clothes – including the racy stuff he’s bought me in play. Pants are easy enough. I know his favorite jeans, and I’ve had plenty of fantasies of him peeling denim off of me. The shirt’s a harder pick. I think he’d like something tight across the chest and flaring at the waist. Then I blush. I can’t believe I’m thinking things like this.

          I get over it quick though, and decide that both the jeans and the shirt will be more fun if they’re paired with, well, nothing!  I imagine the look on his face when he lowers my zipper… and decide I have to stop thinking this way or I’ll never make it to our Pajama(less) Party!

         

 

          I leave the house when the lights have gone down in the sky. The soft, round streetlights look like giant fireflies and I swallow my happy laughter and try not to run the final block to his door.

          I don’t have to knock – I’ve had a key since he moved in. Still, tonight feels different – special – and I tap at the door and wait for him to answer. He’s smiling when he comes to the door, and I laugh to see him looking so bright. “You look so happy, Lerxst.”

          “Because I get to do this,” he explains, before pulling me close and kissing me sweetly on the mouth.

          When my eyes finally come open, he’s still smiling.

          “Pajama party?” I ask.

          His eyes twinkle and I wonder that he can look both demure and incredibly sexy. “Well, Dirk, you know what _that_ means.”

          I raise my eyebrows, urging him on.

          “If we’re going to have a pajama party, Dirk, then we’ll have to change our clothes.”

          I feel my smile curling like a ribbon and give him my hand, knowing that he’ll lead me just where I want to go.

 

          Upstairs, his bedroom feels like a new and exciting space, and I stand back and watch as he slips his clothes. He looks at me over his shoulder. “Are you scared?”

           “Nope.” I grin mischievously. “It’s just that, well, I forgot my pajamas.”

          He gapes a minute before recovering and I’m so happy that I’ve surprised him. “Is that so? I guess you’ll just have to wear a pair of mine.”

          “I will,” I promise. “I’ll be honored – but after.”

          He actually shivers in front of me. “Geddy?” he says my name as if it were new. “Ged, are you sure? Now?”

          “Now.”

          He comes closer and closer until there’s no space left between our bodies.  Leaning over me, he kisses me like he was born to. I forget to breathe as his hands ghost over my collarbone, over my need-peaked nipples. His hands – so huge – rest on my hips before moving under my shirt. I want to touch him back, but my muscles won’t respond. All of my blood has run away south, and from the way he’s trailing his fingers over my belly – so slight – he knows it.  

          I back up, bumping into the bed, and he eases off, or seems to. I let my eyes close so that I can just feel him. Without unbuttoning my pants, he slips his fingers inside, under my waistband and drops to his knees. “No pajamas and no underwear,” he coos, “You are forgetful today, my love.” Fingers still inside, he presses kisses along my waistband. If my pants weren’t keeping me confined, my jumping cock would brush his face, his mouth. “Can I flatter myself that I had you distracted?”

          “Yes!” I gasp, fighting for enough air to say the words. I’m overwhelmed with having him on his knees, with his fingers splayed on the inside of my thigh. I want to just shove his hands down my pants. “Ali…!”

          I want to tell him that there’s no way I can go on like this for very long. He’s had me on the edge for the last two days, and I’ve ached for him since I was sixteen. I need him to take my pants off, and I need him to do it now. (But I don’t want him to be disappointed with me for going off so easy.) Standing, he places kisses on my forehead, my ear, my neck. I’m sweating and panting, and he’s barely touched me at all. I look into his eyes, pleading, aching.

          “I swear I’ll treat you good, Dirk,” me murmurs into my neck, still placing those sweet, sucking kisses that keep me paralyzed with wanting him. “But it’s early in our pajama party. Will you let me get you off? I want to see your face when you come.”

          Though it’s everything I want, and completely in character with his generosity, I can’t help asking, “What about you?”

          His eyes dance and he laughs softly at me. “What do you think it does to me – seeing you want me like this? All I’ve ever wanted is to be the one who turns you on.” He gives me a look that asks permission, and I nod frantically, saying yes with every fiber of my being.

          I don’t breathe as he undoes the buttons on my jeans and slides down my fly. Rubbing my hands over the rough bump of my erection (still hidden by the denim) he makes a sweet, keening sound and moves his damp fingers to his lips. I’d be embarrassed to be so wet already, but when he licks his fingers, tasting me, I just feel wanted, treasured, loved.

          Pants gone, he pushes my shirt up before lifting it over my head. Then he’s kissing me, opening my mouth with his. I surrender easily, eager to feel his tongue in my mouth. Arms and legs spread, I remember his earlier quips about bondage and shudder with pleasure. I no longer care what anyone thinks about me – I’m just after my own pleasure (denied too long!) – and his. Even when he lifts his head, I feel like he’s still kissing me and I blink several times, dizzy from the feel of his mouth.

          He’s looking to me for permission again, and his blue eyes are unbelievably black. “Geddy, can I taste you? Can I put it in my mouth?”

          I know he could take me down in one swallow, but I don’t know how to tell him that he should, that I’ve wanted for years to go to him and beg him to take me between those lips of his. Something in his eyes makes me feel like he can read my mind, but he gives just a little shake of his head, a sort of soothing look that tells me to hang on, to wait for it. I almost laugh when I catch myself wondering if he’s worried that I won’t think he has any technique!

          When his tongue flicks out it feels like a match striking my cock. Loving the noises I’m making, he further moistens the dewy tip, wringing pale droplets out of me. I almost sob when he tells me how sweet I taste, tongue brushing over his bright lips. I feel my balls tightening and I want to give in, to just thrust. I want to be deep in his throat… deep inside of him.

          Finally, he lathers the smooth tip with his rough tongue, and I relax a little at feeling myself sheathed inside of his mouth, encircled by his lips. He makes a satisfied sound, the vibrations running up my already swollen cock. But it’s Alex, and I should know that he’ll find a way to one up even perfection. Gripping me at the base with those long, callused fingers of his, he uses his other hand to reach behind my balls. I’ve imagined him inside of me so many times, and the suggestion of a touch there makes me scream, makes me beg him to fuck me. Looking delighted, even with his mouth full with me, he slips a finger in with my cock to wet it before pushing inside.

          “Ali!”

          I feel him smile with his whole body and he begins to move his head in time with his finger until I can’t even pinpoint where the sensations sweeping over me are coming from – only that they’re bound up in him and the love I feel for him. He holds my gaze with his and I think it’s his eyes – so loving so familiar, so much my best friend – that do me in. I whimper, poised on that beautiful brink. “Ali… I’m coming… I’m going to come…”

          The next thing I’m conscious of is the beautiful motion of his throat as he swallows me down. He’s so goddamn beautiful, and he actually looks proud to have pleased me. Stripping off his pajamas, he flashes me a look that’s all sparkle and mischief. “That’s better. Now we can make love.”

          I gape – but I think the sight of him might have me hardening, too – hardening before I’m even dry! “What was that!?”

          He looks at me like I’ve lost my wits. “Foreplay.”

          I could start believing in God again because of this, I think, as his lips come over mine, bearing my taste to my mouth.


	9. Chapter 9

My orgasm is an ebbing tide in my bloodstream, slowly retreating, and the starlit diamonds he’s kindled in my eyes form a haze before lifting fully. When they do, my vision almost goes dark a second time at the sight of him standing before me. Still sheathed in foreskin (which is exotic and exciting to me), the head of his hard length peeks out, seeming shy. I want to coax him out with my lips and my tongue; I want to hold him and feel him hardening in my hand.

          “Ali…” I murmur, hoping he hears all I’m feeling.

          He makes a sound like a satisfied hum. “You like, Geddy?” His eyes ask, “You like me?”      

          I nod happily and motion him near. I want to feel every inch of him, all of it pressed against me. He kneels over me on the bed. I gently stroke over his chest. The hair there is a darker blond than the honey-halo of his hair, or the golden patch between his legs, a dirty-blond color that forms curls over his muscles. I circle his nipples, stroke them with the rough pads of my thumb. Under that touch, his nubs become hard and rose colored, and I wet them with my tongue. He shudders over me, surprised.  “Dirk…”

          Smiling into his broad shoulder and his sunflower hair, I stroke the soft skin of his back. He’s so perfect – his lean waist, his round ass, the fur-covered testicles hanging down behind his sex, his long legs and long guitarist fingers. He’s part rock god and part angel, and rocking and grinding gently against me, he lets me know that he’s all mine. I murmur his name over and over as I kiss his hair, his eyelids, his cheekbones, his nose. “You’re so beautiful,” I whisper.

          He presses his lips to my forehead. “Thank you. But I didn’t hear any of yesterday’s nonsense creeping in there, did I? You’re not going to ask me something silly are you, like what I’m doing in bed with you?”

          He’s so sweet, so protective. “No. I just want to please you.” I reach down between his legs, between our bodies, and touch him for the first time.

          He grunts his pleasure and seems to lengthen in my hand. His teeth clench and he exhales quick and sharp. “Hold… hold the foreskin back…” he begs.

          Feeling along the slippery flesh, I gently roll it back. He starts to shake and I know he wants it faster, rougher. Unfortunately for my beautiful boy, I’m enjoying the exploration. I want to feel him buck again. Still stroking the foreskin up and down to get him nice and wet, I feel down his back and open his cheeks. He almost shrieks and I almost start laughing. He’s got me so excited, and every tensed muscle in his body lets me know that he’ll let me take him.

           Still, he’s almost thrusting already, hips knocking against mine, cock slippery and spilling. “Y’know,” I tell him, voice thick with satisfaction, “it’s still pretty early in our party.”

          He looks up with dark, dark eyes.

          “Alex, I want to see you come.”

          Eyes brushing over my naked body and straining sex, he whimpers. Drawing him close, I open my legs for him and guide his need between my thighs. Panting, he begins to thrust. Mouth open, he breathes hard. He sounds like he’s choking on the need tightening in him, and I grind against him to help him along. The feel of our hard, wet cocks touching makes him gasp. I do the same when he wraps his hand around both of us, taking control. Stroking us both furiously, his brow damp with sweat, he brings me to a second orgasm even before coming himself! But when he feels me shudder and shoot, spilling myself over him, he cries out. Forcing my eyes to stay open even though I want to shut them against the waves of pleasure sweeping over me, I think, again, that’s he the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

          Less dazed than him (though that second round _did_ surprise me!) I, ease him back and gently clean him with my tongue. His abs clench when I take his softening length into my mouth, and he smiles with shining eyes. Pushing pajamas and cast off bedding to the floor, I crawl into his arms and pull the comforter over both of us. He doesn’t know it yet, but pajama party (part three) is at my place!

 


	10. Chapter 10

When I tell him that I want another night together (that I want to extend this crazy game he’s begun) he’s practically childish in his excitement. I know he’s worried about his performance and wants a chance to really show me all of his stuff (so to speak!). I wish he knew that he’s already been so much more than I expected. His patience and understanding… I don’t know how I’ll ever repay them. And to see him – _feel him_ – coming… The feel of his lips on my neck breaks my concentration.

          “What are you humming to yourself so happy about, Dirk?” he asks.

          I don’t even try to dissemble. “You. I was picturing you… you know.”

          His smile is blinding and he starts to pull possibilities out of thin air. That he can do so this easily tells me how long he’s wanted me, how much he’s imagined for us. “I could put on a show for you,” offers my generous one, and I blush to realize that I’m wondering if he’s already hard beneath the covers we’re sharing.

          “I’m supposed to be at home getting ready for our party,” I remind him. Our romantic adventures have kept me from caring for the day-to-day things like laundry and groceries. I have no doubt that Lerxst could distract me enough to make love in a mess, but I’ll be more comfortable if everything is in its place.

          “So let me inspire you before you go,” he flirts.

          When I don’t answer right away, he gives the schoolboy pout that used to get me to give him my homework to copy every time (even though he was perfectly smart enough to hand in the right answers on his own).

          I decide to flirt back a little and surprise myself with how comfortable it feels. But then, I guess I’ve been flirting with him for years. “How am I supposed to clean when I’m all hot and bothered?” I query.

          His ears practically perk up. “Well there are a couple of things I could do about that.”

          Lit up with an anticipation I can’t deny, I wait to hear my options.

          “I could take you in my mouth again,” he begins, making me shiver with remembering. “Or I could use my hands on you. You could put on a show _with_ me, or, when you get back home, I could call you and get you off over the phone.”

          I’m not sure what answer to make, tantalizing visions drifting, one by one, through my mind. Alex has always been almost magically spontaneous. Rather than letting me consider, he climbs out from under the covers and straddles my hips. My entire body tenses, currents of light and heat blooming in my bones as his weight settles over me. I gasp when I catch a glimpse of his need, jutting proudly from a thatch of golden hair, head peeping shyly from the foreskin. I struggle to get enough air into my lungs to beg him to hold it back. A rosy flush surfaces over his breastbone and creeps up his neck. “Are you sure, Dirk?”

          “I want you to come all over me,” I assure him, panting already. “And then, Ali, I want you to fuck me.”

          He exhales hard and squeezes between his legs. His fingers brush against me and make my cock jump with desire. “You’re giving me a lot of credit, Geddy.”

          I laugh. “Giving _myself_ a lot, actually. I think I can make you hard again.”

          He shudders at my words and I’m proud of myself for being so brave. Running my fingers along the silky skin of his thighs, I urge, “Come on, Ali. Give me something to think about while I’m getting ready for our party.”

          He’s still rocking over me. “If you keep this up, I’m not going to have anything left for our party,” he groans.

          “All those years of tension?” I flirt. “I can’t believe I’ve used them all up already.”

          Sighing, breaking, he begins to stroke himself – hard. I force my eyes to stay open, even though I want to close them, and pre-cum drips from my hard cock as he rocks against me. The bed sighs under us and his face becomes flushed. A smile rises to my lips. He’s moving through this too quickly, driving himself over the edge too fast. Placing my hands on his strong arms, I steady him, still him. “Slow down,” I say gently. “I want to see your eyes, Alex.”

          He makes a sound like a runner breasting the finish line. “Ged, Dirk, my love…”

          Holding his gaze, I nod, reciprocating everything he can’t quite get into words. This time, his touch is lighter and he goes slower, firm steady strokes that push moisture into – then past – the glistening tip. Soon his firm flesh is slippery and shining, mirroring my own untouched need. He notices and gestures, fighting for words. “You can... you know…”

          “I want to come with you inside me,” I tell him.

          The muscles in his abdomen tighten and he closes his eyes again, braced against a rising need. “Geddy,” he murmurs, so tender, a fine trembling shaking everything from his legs to his blond head. I throw my head back, ready for the feel of him all over my skin. Moaning over and over, he spills his heat over my stomach, my chest, and my neck. Eyes opening, he answers my smile with one of his own. “I love you, Geddy.”

          Glittering with the evidence of just how much, I pull him in for a kiss that I’m certain will make him at least halfway hard all over again! He kisses back, and I curse myself inside for denying myself the perfect wonder that he is – that _we are_ tangled up together like this, sex-sweaty and joy-smiling. But, though I might deserve it, berating myself isn’t really what I need to be doing right now. Winning back my mouth, I crawl down his body, evidence of his need still shining on my skin. I never thought there would be pride in it – but I feel _proud_ that I could win this shiny, sticky tribute from him, that I could please him. I feel like I’ve just played a really good show, or maneuvered through a particularly labyrinthine patch of lyrics, like I deserve all the good feelings bubbling up in me. Besides making me feel proud of myself in the bedroom, he’s also made me feel something I never imagined I could. When I’m with Alex, I feel just what he says – beautiful. The way his eyes rest gently on me, so contented, I can’t feel anything else.

          Hoping to repay him for all he’s given, I burrow between his legs. A low moan rumbles through him and I almost laugh, so excited by the musk and the magic of him – and by the idea of getting him ready to take me! I start sweet and slow, suckling each of his balls. When I take each one into my mouth, he shudders and I know I’ve surprised him. Deciding to (pleasantly) shock him further, I let my tongue trace that most secret of places, just behind his balls, almost between his cheeks. He cries out something above me – maybe “oh, god!” and maybe “oh, _G_ ed!” but definitely complimentary. If I felt braver about talking dirty, I’d ask him if he’s imagined it, my tongue piercing him, shoved between his hot cheeks, opening him for my cock.

          Between my legs, my cock is throbbing unrelentingly, begging for attention. If I’m going to come with him inside of me, then I need to get him there now. Without warning, I deep-throat him, swallowing to get as much of him down as I can. He stiffens in my throat, swelling and twitching with new-kindled desire. Drawing back, I think: _Now_. Ideally, I’d like to do this face to face, but it’s our first time and I don’t care if I have to stand on my head, just as long as I can have him, and have him _deep_.

          Lying down on my stomach, I ask for something I never imagined I’d ever be able to, “Fill me, Alex.”

          Such simple words, but they make him tremble above me as he kneels to place a delicate kiss on the back of my neck. I expect him to hurry, but he hesitates, stroking my back. “Dirk, I really want this… you can’t know how many times I’ve imagined it, going all the way with you. But I want you to be sure. It might hurt.”

          “I want you,” I promise him.

          Either my voice, which has always been like a spell to him, or his own need decides him, and I hear him rummage in a bedside table for something to make everything easier on both of us. Seconds later, warm and slippery fingers are caressing me, gently opening me by degrees. I grind into the mattress. Beneath me, a wet spot testifies to how bad I want my best friend to pound into me. When he eases a single finger in, we both gasp. He’s worried he’s hurt me, but the noises I’m making are good ones, imagining how much better his cock is going to feel than his fingers. He strokes in and out, eventually adding a second finger. I almost wonder if he’s paying me back for years worth of teasing, wanting to make me beg. “ _Ali_!”

          My outcry galvanizes him and his snub tip trembles against me. He’s thicker than me and I’m licking my lips with imagining all of him – so big! – thrusting inside me. I wish I could see. Gripping my shoulders, he breaches me and I suck in air. It doesn’t hurt – he prepared me too well for that – but the pressure is incredible. “If you want me to stop, I’ll stop,” he tells me, stilled to let me get used to him.

          “No,” I tell him. “I want all of it. I want more.”

          He laughs, loving me. “Well, you did stop breathing there for a second. I don’t want to ever hurt you, Ged.”

          I fumble for his wrist and find his fingers, join them to mine in a tight grip. “The only thing that could hurt me is losing you, Aleksandar. Now, please?”

          He rolls his hips forward, thrusting once. “Please?”

          He is going to get me to beg after all, but the way he already feels – hell it’ll be worth it. “Please take me! I’m drilling holes through your mattress here, Lerxst.”

          “Oooh,” he exclaims, reaching under to fondle my very sensitive, very keyed-up equipment.

          “Lerxst!”

          He laughs and I almost roll my eyes. Figures that our sex life would be as goofy as everything else we share together. But I don’t quite make it to rolling my eyes, or, rather, they roll back for an entirely different reason. He’s deep inside me now, moving steadily, picking up speed. And every time he pulls back out… “Alex!”

          “Mmmm,” he murmurs, satisfied, and I realize, suddenly, that all of his thrusting has been exploratory, searching for _that_ spot. Realizing that he must have used his fingers on himself before to stimulate that same spot, I almost lose it. Panting, barely able to hold myself up under the perfect sexual torture of his dick sliding over that spot, so gently, again, and again, I ask, “Did you… did you think of me?”

          Neil’s always been amazed at how we can have such uncontextualized conversations, but Alex and I have always been on the same wavelength. As always, he knows just what I’m asking. “Every single time,” he practically purrs. He punctuates each of his next words with a thrust that makes the air go out of my lungs every single time. “I’d… touch… myself… and imagine…that… sweet… cut… cock…imagine you… giving it to me…so hard.”

          I’m a moaning mess now, turned on by his voice and his feel and his need drying on my skin. I want to get off so badly, but I’m panting and shaking so hard that I can’t even ask him for what I need. Fortunately, at least to me, my darling Lerxst is a sexual genius. Thrusting faster and harder in an effort to push us both over the edge, he reaches beneath me and begins to stroke me off in time with his thrusts. Sounding every bit the rock and roll singer without an amphitheater, I scream for him – for his touch, for the feel of him buried inside of me, and for the deep bond we’ve just made deeper with the way we’ve sealed our bodies together.

My ears are still ringing from my own cries when he begins to flood me, hot need gushing into me, sweet and scalding at once.

          He’s the one who manages to get us apart and (somewhat) cleaned up. Then he stills and looks at me, shaking his head. “Good god, Dirk! I wanted to take care of you, but I didn’t think I could come again! You’re…” He shakes his head again. “I don’t even know. Amazing. Perfect.”

          I trace his beautiful mouth. “You’re going to make me blush.”

          “I don’t know how our next pj party can top that!” he continues, still sounding sweetly dazed.

          Looking at him – beautiful, wonderful, and all mine, I realize that it isn’t another pajama party I want. Taking a deep breath, I decide to go for it. Maybe it’s impulsive, maybe I’ll scare him, but after all of our years of foreplay, I’m ready for something more. “Ali,” I begin, softer than I intended, “I, uh, I don’t think I really want a party tonight.”

          He nods eagerly. “Too worn out?” he guesses. “I can understand that! We’ll just plan for another day.”

          I feel myself smiling as I shake my head to contradict him. “You don’t understand. Lerxst, what I want… I don’t want any more parties ever. I want to be with you every night. Always. I know I might be asking for too much, but would you let me stay with you – for good?”

          I’m dumbfounded by the sudden glittering cast his eyes take and it’s only when he blinks a few times, that I realize that I’ve just made my very best friend very happy. Nodding and laughing and teary-eyed at once, he grips my hand and nods enthusiastically.”Yes. Stay.”

          I’m back in his arms when he recovers enough of his Lerxstishness to add, “Of course, you’ll probably have to let me help you pack. And I’ll probably misplace a few things… underwear… pants…”

          Meaning it with all my heart, I assure him that I can’t wait.

 

The End!


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